


It's not the size of the boat, it's the motion in the ocean

by concernedlily



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Bodyswap, Content advisory, Exhibitionism, F/M, Gender Issues, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedlily/pseuds/concernedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't you dare feel him up," Roxy said. "Not while he's got my body on."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not the size of the boat, it's the motion in the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT ADVISORY/TRIGGER WARNINGS: for more information on the bodyswap tag and on who has sex with who in whose body, please see endnotes.

“Don’t you dare feel him up,” Roxy said, horrified once again by her low voice. It came out in Eggsy’s old South London accent: her lips and tongue just wanted to make it. She’d never realised Eggsy still had to think about it so much. “Not while he’s got my body on.”

“This isn't exactly an opportunity I've been dreaming of, Roxy, no offence,” Harry said, with the sort of icy politeness that signified furious discomfort. “But here we are. What _may_ I do, exactly?”

“You can hug him, I suppose,” she said ungraciously. Eggsy looked a bit happier, relieved: it was odd to read an expression on her own face from the outside. “Hands _above_ the waist.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, and held his arms out. Eggsy hopped off the med wing bed and stepped into them. They gripped each other tightly, Eggsy burying his face in Harry’s chest, lower down than usual, and Roxy felt a pang of wistfulness. It had been a long time since anyone had held her body so tenderly while she was actually in it.

She also felt a pang of something else. Eggsy’s cock stirred, as unexpected, uncontrollable, and unpleasant as indigestion.

She poked at it. “Really, Eggsy?” she said.

He looked at her over Harry’s shoulder, unrepentant. “Sorry, mate. It just does that round Harry.”

“If you’re quite finished,” Merlin said, coming in with three of the doctors, his tablet, and a giant sheaf of MRI and CAT scan images and papers. “We know what’s going on.”

He waved Dr Ray forward. “It’s an extremely interesting piece of technology, well done for bringing it back even after - well. What’s happened is…”

And then he said a lot of words. Roxy understood ‘neuron’, ‘mirror’, ‘quantum’, and - most importantly - ‘going to be fine’.

“How long will it last?” Harry said.

“The effect should degrade with no harm done within a day or two,” Dr Ray said cheerfully. “You’re free to go.”

***

It was already afternoon by the time they got back to Harry's. JB came straight up to Roxy, joyful at reunion, then slowed, giving her as suspicious a look as a small pug was capable of. Eggsy knelt and called him and JB seemed to think about it, before turning his back pointedly on them both and going to nuzzle Harry's shoes. 

Harry picked him up in one arm and reached for Eggsy with the other, squeezed his hand. Roxy looked at Eggsy and she could see clearly his badly camouflaged upset: Christ, she hoped she had a better poker face when she was in there.

“I need the loo,” she said, grimly.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eggsy said, after a moment of appalled joint silence.

“ _No_ ,” she said and stomped off.

She debated with herself over the best way to manage but eventually admitted her own curiosity. She undid her jeans and pulled her dick carefully out of the fly of the boxer-briefs before thinking better of it and pushing it all down. Eggsy’s soft cock wasn’t anything new - privacy hadn’t been a concept during their recruitment and training - but handling it was, and handling it as a part of her definitely was. She put her hand on it carefully and aimed, watching the stream so she could avoid Mr Pickle’s judging glass eyes.

Congratulating herself on achieving that with the minimum of fuss, she washed her hands - Eggsy had quite small, elegant hands, not so very far from her own - and found herself caught by the look on her face. It was very much her own expression but on Eggsy’s handsome features, both of them and neither of them: she was a stranger to herself, and she didn’t like it. 

She ducked away from her reflection and went into the kitchen, not ready to rejoin Harry and Eggsy just yet.

Harry was a complete poser about proper tea, but under the circumstances the ritual of it felt nice, soothing. Her grandmother had liked proper tea leaves. Roxy went through the cupboards and assembled mugs, spoons, teapot, tea, strainer, sugar bowl. She put the kettle on and listened to the pleasantly familiar sound of it coming to the boil, hotted the teapot, drew fresh water and switched it back on.

She found a tray and carried the mugs and teapot upstairs carefully, still getting used to the different centre of gravity. She came to a stop in the doorway when she saw what was going on in the living room.

Harry and Eggsy were dancing. To music coming quietly out of Eggsy’s phone on the side table, a close passionate tango. Even as she watched Eggsy was moving more and more fluidly, finding where his own gymnastic grace could live in her body, visibly becoming more comfortable and accustomed to it as he flowed with Harry’s body.

He drew one foot slowly up the back of Harry’s leg, their gazes so intent on one another Roxy lost her breath, and Harry dipped him low and back; they made an elegantly filthy line together, Harry’s broad strength over her lithe curves and Eggsy’s physical confidence. Her eyes were more caught by the look on Harry’s face, unguarded, fiercely affectionate and protective.

She clinked the tray purposefully and they broke apart. Harry turned away to put the music off and when he faced her again it was with his usual polite, pleasant expression in place. “Tea, how lovely.”

“Good girl, Rox,” Eggsy said, more enthusiastically, and came to her as she put the tray down on the coffee table. “We was just - practicing a bit. Thought you might prefer it to me going out free running.”

“I saw,” she said. “You looked good. I don’t think I even knew I could move like that.”

Eggsy shrugged. He was always casual about his extraordinary physical abilities, unlike Roxy, who’d learned most of hers in classes full of big strong boys and was jealously proud of them.

“Easy with the right partner,” Eggsy said and Harry smiled at him, eyes crinkling and soft. He was always so conscious of Eggsy: it was odd, to see that kind of attention being paid to him in her body.

She didn’t have time to date, and she wasn’t missing it. Plenty of time for that when she was more established as Lancelot and had a couple of years of Kingsman under her belt. But she did miss being touched nicely, looked at fondly, just someone to hug her as long as she wanted when she wanted. Eggsy had it pretty sorted.

***

“Right,” Harry said, glancing at the clock. “I’m going to take JB for a walk. I’ll pick up a Chinese on the way back, if that’s all right for everyone?”

Everyone agreed that was all right and he disappeared off, JB trotting eagerly in his wake. And then they were alone at last.

“How you getting on?" Eggsy said, curling up next to her on the couch.

"Not great," she admitted. "How are you?"

"Not great. It's like - I'm me, with my thoughts and feelings, but - weird. Like me, through a pane of glass."

"It's going to wear off soon."

"I hope so," Eggsy said. "It's shit."

He pushed her down to lie on the couch and lay down next to her, their legs entwined: it was probably her imagination but it felt better like that, like her body needed keeping an eye on. 

She heard Harry come in and then he called them downstairs. Dinner was quiet, her ankle hooked round Eggsy's under the table. Eggsy ate one-handed, and she was pretty sure the other was resting on Harry's leg. 

"You need to eat more than that," Harry said to her, the first speech for most of the meal, making her startle.

"I've eaten a lot," she said. She'd always been very active and eaten accordingly, none of the dieting of her schoolmates, and even still she'd eaten quite a lot more than usual. "I'm not hungry."

Eggsy looked over at her plate and then glanced over the open takeaway containers. "Sorry," he said. "He's right. You're going to wake up in the night hungry."

"But I've had enough," she said.

"I think you can trust Eggsy to know his own nutrition needs," Harry said. 

She sent him a poisonous look. He pointed at her with his fork and said to Eggsy, "There, that's an expression of yours. When you're pissed off with me."

"Is it?" Eggsy said. He peered at her over the table. "It's not very flattering."

"Careful the wind doesn't change," Harry said to her. "You might get him stuck like that."

They had pudding and a cup of tea in front of the telly in the living room and then it was time for bed, and apparently an argument.

"You are not getting in bed with Harry," she said flatly. 

"Why?" Eggsy said.

Harry gave her a narrow-eyed look. "I'd like Eggsy in our bed, as usual. If at _all_ possible."

"It is _not_ possible," she said. "I'm not having it."

"Okay," Eggsy said. He put his hand on Harry's arm and gave them both a pacifying look. It sat very oddly on Roxy's face: she wasn't the pacifying type. Eggsy was, he looked after people, and what seemed sweet from a muscled tough lad took on a different slant with him in her body. Like he should have been wearing heels and a pinny and welcoming her and Harry home from work with a gin and tonic and supper on the table.

"Harry will stay in our room, Rox you'll go in the spare bed, and I'll kip on the sofa," Eggsy said. "Everyone all right with that?"

"Fine," Roxy said. 

"Fine," Harry said, looking annoyed. 

"Fine," Eggsy said and smiled, mainly at Harry, approvingly like he was JB and he'd just learned a new trick. Harry needed so much fucking _managing_ : she didn't know how Eggsy stood it.

That settled, Eggsy went into Harry's arms. She'd got her way on the bed so she gave them their goodnight hug: it was getting less awkward to watch. Eggsy snuggled in easily and Harry closed his eyes and put his face in Eggsy's hair, what she belatedly realised was worry smoothing out of the creases of his face. Something that had been tight and anxious deep in Roxy's chest - unnoticed like it had an old settled home there - snapped loose and calm, and tiredness waved over her in its wake. 

She left them to it, and went to bed.

***

She didn't wake up in her own body. She did wake up with a stiff erection and slammed her hands to the mattress either side like they were on magnets. It would be rude to touch Eggsy's cock, it felt weird to be even thinking about it in Harry's spare room, and she _did not want_ to know what it felt like to be a bloke with a hard cock. 

She did notice, somewhat guiltily, that Eggsy's cock was bigger hard than she'd have expected.

It was an insistent little beast. It was similar to the feelings she recognised as arousal, but she felt it much more intensely where the cock stuck up from her groin. She couldn't help but think of it as a bit like a heat-seeking missile, both in terms of being fraught with danger and the potential for mess, and because it seemed to know just what it wanted, an instinctive sensation in her hips and groin that sneaked towards warm and wet and thrusting.

She had a hand tentatively laid over it before she really knew what she was doing, then flinched back from it. Her cock twitched hopefully and she put two fingers to the head, trying to think about it with scientific detachment. That felt good, sensitive throbbing pleasure, not unlike the first circle of fingers on her clit. She put her hand round it, held it tighter, made a fist and let her hips screw up into it the way they wanted to and that felt good too, desire spiking there and echoing back through her body.

It was ridiculous. Roxy had spent a lot of time in school and university, to say the least at home, hiding her feelings: she'd never truly felt she could be herself until she'd got to Kingsman, where she was one of the most normal people in a country house full of ambulatory basket cases. Having something attached to her that could so clearly telegraph what she was thinking and feeling was deeply unsettling.

She took her hand off again, lay back, thought of England, and waited for it to go away.

Once it had gone down she decided the better part of valour might be to get up and do something, hopefully reducing the chance of it happening again. She got out of bed and went down to the kitchen.

Harry was there, running water into a glass. He looked round at her, bleary-eyed, and said, “Hello, darling.”

He came over, groped her arse in a familiar way, and kissed her comprehensively.

Roxy’s mouth unhelpfully dropped open with shock and so it was about twenty seconds before he let her go and stepped back gingerly.

“Shit, I forgot,” he said, looking vastly more awake, the kiss evidently having acted as a bucket of icy water. He looked at her and touched his mouth, grimaced. “You taste like him, but you don’t kiss like him.”

“You surprised me,” Roxy said, offended. “I’m an _excellent_ kisser.”

“Hmm,” Harry said, curling his lip at her.

Fuck it. She was going back to bed.

***

“Rox, you all right?” Eggsy said a bit later, peeking inside.

“Yeah,” she said. It was odd seeing him: just lying still on her own with Eggsy’s body finally quiet it had been easier to think everything was normal, until her own body came walking through the door.

He came in and crawled into bed with her, pulling the cover up and tucking it round both their shoulders like he wanted to pretend too.

“Harry’s bringing us a coffee,” he said. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Did you?”

“Not bad,” he said. “That’s good, that you were okay. I don’t sleep that well.”

She knew that: she’d woken up lots of times during training to see a light on over Eggsy’s bed, his head bowed over a book. Body or brain? Maybe they had an answer. Maybe they should write a book. "Your dick was hard for ages this morning," she said accusingly. 

"It probably misses Harry," Eggsy said. "We fuck practically as soon as we wake up, start the day right. In case one of us cops it by evening."

"You're like a pair of sodding teenagers," she said, half-hearted griping. It was like Eggsy's dick was on a bloody yo-yo: it had perked up again just from hearing Harry's name alongside the word fuck.

"Did you touch it?" Eggsy said lazily. She didn't answer and he propped himself up on one elbow, hair falling tangled over his shoulders and over his breasts, looking down at her. "Did you? You did! Rox!"

He collapsed back next to her, laughing. She considered elbowing him, remembered it was her own body she'd be elbowing, then did it anyway. "Shut the fuck up. Only a bit. It was all... demanding, I couldn't help it."

"That's dicks for you, love," he said philosophically. "Did you like it?"

"I don't know," she said, considering it. "Maybe. It's very immediate. Very focused sensation."

"Is it?" Eggsy said. "Does it feel really different?"

"Don't you know?"

"Maybe," he said, doubtfully. "It got wet last night but it didn't really feel like much, to be honest."

“What were you doing?” she said.

“Thinking about Harry,” he said, in a durr voice. “It was pretty good in my head, but otherwise…” he shrugged, the duvet moving up and down, his arm brushing against hers. “He doesn’t really smell right, from here.”

“How does he smell usually?”

Eggsy thought about it. “Good.”

“Good? Like good how?” she said, exasperated. Was the lack of reflectiveness a boy thing, or an Eggsy thing? He didn’t have the sense of worry about his own life that she felt had been with her pretty much since birth.

“Just good. Really nice. Makes me want to fuck him.”

“Did you tell him?” she said, not entirely sure she wanted to know.

“Tell him what?”

“You know. That you were wet. Got all wet for him.” It sounded surprisingly compelling, put like that, and she found herself waiting attentively for his answer. 

“No. I didn’t think you’d like it.”

Did she like it? She didn’t dislike it. She wasn’t attracted to Harry - she could get what Eggsy saw in him, sort of, he had the silver fox thing working for him, but he was older than her dad and the unpredictability that had got him to that age made her wary: he was only reliably soft with Eggsy, and even with him not always. "It's weird, thinking about Harry fucking me," she said. 

"Were we thinking about that?" Eggsy said slyly. He yawned and snuggled close to her and she put her arm round his shoulders, his boobs squashing against her side. "Anyway, he wouldn't be fucking you. He only sees me."

She looked up at the ceiling and he put his hand on her tummy, slipping her t-shirt up to find skin. She said, "You're lucky."

"You don't have to tell _me_."

"He'd probably be very good, wouldn't he," she said, exploring the idea out loud. Now given voice in the world it was sounding increasingly intriguing. "Fucking me, I mean. Fucking you in my body."

"I dunno about that," Eggsy said. "He hasn't shagged a woman for fun since 1980."

"Seriously?"

"I’ve had no complaints when I do it for work," Harry said, coming through the door with three mugs. "It's essentially a mechanical problem."

Roxy squinted at him. "You getting it up for women, or the female orgasm?"

"Both," he said blandly. 

She sighed. "Yeah, that sounds like it came from 1980."

*** 

Later on, Eggsy said, "And remember, if it gets too weird..."

"... We'll stop," Roxy said. She squeezed Eggsy's hands in hers and they smiled into one another's eyes.

"It's already quite weird," Harry said from where he was lying on the bed, muffled by the pillow over his face. They ignored him.

Eggsy put his hands on the bottom of his t-shirt and so did she. "On three?" he said.

They stripped off at the same moment and Eggsy's hands went to his tits immediately with an avid, greedy expression. "Haven't you touched them already?" she said, amused. 

"Only in the shower," he said. "And I didn't look. You've got great boobs, Rox. Really perky."

"Your manboobs are rubbish," she said. "It's like your nipples are stuck on with glue. Hardly any feeling at all."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. Fuck, yours feel good. Like they're on a straight line to the snatch."

"His nipples can get fairly sensitive," Harry said. "If one plays with them for long enough." He'd got rid of the pillow and was watching them with an absent expression; as she turned to him his gaze slid to Eggsy and fixed on Eggsy's face, a gleam coming into his eyes. She looked back at Eggsy, who was exploring his breasts and nipples with a dreamy, heated look on his face, his eyes closed and a flush touching his cheeks and spreading down his throat and collarbones. 

It was pretty sexy, even if she did say so herself. She put her hand over her cock, pressing the soft material of her joggers over it, and it reacted by starting to stiffen, drawing the focus of the rest of her body and her mind in a way she was starting to find quite nice. It was efficient and outcome-focused; she could appreciate that. It felt nice to be able to assuage her curiosity, to touch the way it wanted and feel what her body did in response.

She sat down on the armchair in the corner, which Eggsy had tidied of hoodies and clean folded underwear with all the ceremony of preparing a throne. She was making a tent in her loose trousers, aesthetically quite nice; she'd always liked the look of a bulge, the mix of discretion and naughtiness, the promise of it.

Eggsy had taken off his joggers and the boxers he'd had on underneath. He caught her eye and said, "Is this okay?" He was sliding his hand down his body, to the curls she kept trimmed and neat.

She nodded. She could see when he found his clit: he was frowning faintly, biting his lip, and then he gave a pleased little smile and a sharply indrawn breath, shaking out his shoulders.

“Are you wet?” she said, surprised by the roughness in her voice.

“Not really,” he said. He looked at Harry, and back at her hopefully.

“You can kiss him,” she said.

Harry was watching her over Eggsy’s shoulder, thoughtful, but as Eggsy stepped towards him all of Harry’s attention snapped back to him.

Harry stood up and Eggsy pressed against him. Harry flicked his gaze towards Roxy; she nodded, and Harry kissed him.

It obviously took them a few moments to orient to Roxy’s smaller body, or perhaps this was simply how they started, because they adjusted and shifted and yearned closer to one another. Eggsy’s mouth opened on a little sigh, Harry slid a hand into the long fall of his hair like it was a signal, and Eggsy melted into him for powerful deep kisses.

The obscene wet sound of it was loud in the quiet bedroom and Roxy’s cock answered. This time she could feel the peculiar swelling and pictured the blood rushing there, filling it and stiffening it. She took a deep breath, daring, and then put a hand on it, over the jogging bottoms. It was even happier then, with her rubbing and groping it, sliding the material of her pants over and around the flesh. The head started to push out near the waistband.

Eggsy groaned and she looked up at them again. They were still kissing, desperately. Harry’s hand drifted onto Eggsy’s arse, squeezed one cheek and then stroked into the crease, exploring.

“No,” Roxy said sharply: they’d talked about that.

“Sorry,” Harry said, breaking briefly from the kiss. “Habit.” His hands went back around Eggsy’s waist and she followed them with her gaze, Harry’s broad hands with his thick fingers (she felt under the circumstances she could acknowledge that they were very nice, and the sort of hands it would be good to be felt up by). 

She found she was more captivated after having the moment interrupted. She could see now that Eggsy had been right: Harry didn’t care about it being Roxy’s body. Eggsy was the only thing he saw.

As she watched, Harry moaned into Eggsy’s mouth and then those big hands were slipping down his thighs, under them, and he picked Eggsy up. Eggsy wrapped his arms round Harry’s shoulders and his legs round Harry’s waist and they kept kissing. She was impressed despite herself. She didn’t know if this was a usual move for them, but she suspected not: Eggsy wasn’t very tall but he was solid muscle. It touched her, a reminder that this situation might have intruded her more than usual into their life together, but they were deliberately choosing to let her see this private part of themselves.

Although of course they were getting off on it, the exhibitionist pervs, so maybe she was doing them a bloody favour.

Harry staggered back and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping Eggsy rock steady and safe over his hips. Eggsy got his knees on the edge of the bed and Harry tilted him backwards over his arms and started to kiss and suck at his nipples. Eggsy’s body was almost entirely open to her from this angle, Harry’s half-blocked by his broad shoulders and trim back: she saw Harry mainly in Eggsy’s reactions.

Eggsy yelled and writhed, pinned in place by Harry’s embrace, and she remembered what he’d said about her nipples and his own not being very sensitive. She reached up under her t-shirt and gave one a stroke, then a pinch, in the spirit of inquiry. It was mainly quite annoying, and she watched Eggsy enjoy Roxy’s tits very vocally and went back to her cock instead.

It was all simultaneously more appealing and less narcissistic than she’d expected. The visual was much better than she ever found porn, holding her interest, but she couldn’t set herself in Eggsy’s place: he was too lost in Harry, more given up to pleasure than she ever allowed herself to be.

“Touch -” she cleared her throat - “touch his clit. He’s ready now. Check.”

They didn’t show they’d heard her, but Harry got himself further on the bed, pulled Eggsy upright so he could bring one arm around to his front and slide his hand over Eggsy's body, down between his legs.

“Softly,” Roxy said, breathless with anticipation of having her clit touched, even if it wasn’t currently in her possession. “Use two fingers - just the tips - not directly on top. Just rub round the sides and over the hood.”

Harry gave her the barest nod and then Eggsy was arching urgently, the breath falling out of his mouth on a moan.

“How is he now?” she said.

“Wet,” Harry said. He was watching Eggsy’s face with a hot, almost stern expression. Now they were getting down to it, she could see shades in him of what he’d meant by _a mechanical problem_. Unlike the abandonment of kissing, this was what he’d be like on a honeypot mission, part of him holding back to learn his partner’s responses, play the game he needed to get what he wanted. “He likes this.”

Eggsy managed a choked laugh, anchoring his arms back around Harry’s neck. “Like it - whenever you touch me. Every time.”

“Eggsy…” Harry said. He put his hand up to Eggsy’s mouth, pushed his fingers inside for Eggsy to suck his juices off, and Roxy squirmed: it felt weirdly personal.

She pushed her joggers down, freeing her cock. She gave it a good look this time. It was respectably thick, and about the average length she preferred, or perhaps a little shorter. It was quite nice, as dicks went, with the head still hidden behind the prettily pink foreskin, not too veiny. Eggsy’s balls were round and even, sitting neatly in his sac. She gave it an experimental couple of tugs, then licked her palm and did it again: better.

She carried on doing that, lazily, and said, “Lick his pussy, Harry. You’re going to love this, Eggsy, seriously.”

Harry gave her a considering look and then he pulled some flip move that ended with Eggsy on his back, further up the bed, and Harry kneeling on the floor between his spread legs. Harry was still mostly dressed, casual trousers and creased blue shirt half-unbuttoned and dragged partly off one shoulder: it was an evocative scene, combined with Eggsy’s flaunting nakedness. She might have to try it.

“Very nice,” she said.

“Thanks,” Harry said, and then his dark head bent between Eggsy’s thighs and Eggsy squealed at the first touch of his tongue. Did Roxy make that noise in bed? She hoped not; it was horribly undignified.

Watching cunnilingus turned out to be quite dull - all the action happening in a small space she couldn’t see - so she watched Eggsy instead, tracking the flush moving down his body as he got increasingly into it, noisy and moving until Harry had to put an arm over his hips to keep him in place.

She alternated that with figuring out wanking, which turned out to be more of a technical challenge than she’d ever really imagined, even though surely the angle ought to have been easier than giving boys handjobs. It was something to do with feeling it, she thought: she’d do something that worked excellently well, get caught up in lust spiking out from her cock, and lose the move or the rhythm she’d just perfected.

She was listening to the rapid, yelping cadence of Eggsy’s yells so she heard him come, saw him tense and tremble, heard him say, “Christ, Harry, s’enough...”

“No, let him carry on,” she said. “I promise, the second one is so much better. Don’t stop, Harry, just slow down a bit, soften up, just sort of rub your tongue on his clit. Put a couple of fingers in him, that’ll be really good now.” It was a strain to get the words out: strangely hot, having to articulate exactly what she liked and when she liked it, and she clenched her fist tighter round her cock and worked it more urgently.

Harry paused, mouth still on Eggsy, and Eggsy said, “Yeah?”

“Why the fuck are we doing this if not so you can have multiple orgasms?” she said.

He laughed, panting. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. Harry - go on, babe, fuck me up, come on - _fuck_ ,” trailing off as Harry went back to it in earnest, Eggsy undulating to get his pussy up to his mouth and then away again. 

The second one was always quicker, stronger, and she watched eagerly as Eggsy rose to it. She could see Harry’s shoulder moving as he used his fingers, hear the sloppy wet sounds of it, always so hot in the moment and faintly distasteful later, but Eggsy was loving it, had his feet up on the bed to give Harry access and his hands screwed up in his hair, letting out little grunts of effort and pleasure.

The second time he came it was nearly silent; she saw it in his hips working furiously down onto Harry’s face, instinctive, the way he arched practically into a full crab at the peak, his spine bowing before he dropped bonelessly back onto the bed. She wasn’t close but she felt the echo of it shudder down her spine anyway, her hand going sympathetically limp while her cock started to leak, the head coming out as it got bigger, harder.

“Do it really gentle,” she croaked out. “It’s too much if you just stop. Just another minute, really gentle.” Harry did as she said and she could tell from Eggsy’s quiet little whimpers it was working. That _was_ quite a sexy sound, dripping with satisfaction.

“Is that enough?” Harry said, lifting his head finally. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and pressed a long kiss to the tender inside of Eggsy’s thigh.

“Want you to fuck me,” Eggsy said, gravelly and sure. “Can he, Rox? Want him inside. I come just on his cock, have I ever told you that? Doesn’t even have to touch mine. I wanna see if I can come on his cock now.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but his whole body was straining towards Eggsy; he was breathing hard.

“Yeah,” she said, thinking _don’t get your hopes up_. “You remember -”

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice fraying. His hands were at his crotch: his trousers dropped partway down his arse - not bad for an older bloke, she couldn’t help noticing - and then a condom packet fluttered to the floor. “Like this, darling? On your back?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy said and pulled his legs up, unselfconsciously offering himself in a way that made her go red down to her toes. She could see how the blunt raw sexuality of it could be attractive and Harry seemed to find it so: he made a growling sound and covered Eggsy, guiding himself inside. Eggsy screeched at the suddenness of it, his legs going round Harry’s thighs and his arms round Harry’s neck, and Harry swung down to kiss him and forward to fuck him.

Roxy swallowed and started to go at her dick in earnest. For perhaps the first time in the encounter her brain and her cock felt in perfect agreement about what worked for them and arousal started to rebound through her body, her skin tingling.

It didn’t take them long. Harry clearly knew what he was doing, knew how to align himself to catch Eggsy’s clit as he fucked him. She knew how wet and open and soft Eggsy was after two orgasms, how incredibly easy and ready for another, and she started to move her hand faster, falling into Harry’s rhythm.

Eggsy came first and Harry clearly had waited for him, going not long after. For the first time of the whole thing Roxy felt rude and she averted her eyes politely, giving them their privacy as Eggsy kissed Harry through climax.

Well, that was that. Eggsy and Harry were finished and she was ready to follow.

She sped her pace on her dick but there was an edge there she still couldn’t quite get over, and frustration started to build, leeching away the want in her groin. She gripped her cock, too tight, squeezed her eyes shut and made a pathetic noise.

She cried out as her hand was knocked away and replaced by a mouth, hot and hard-sucking, feeling suddenly flowing freely through her dick and to her balls in a close loop, radiating out. She thrust up into it, wanting _more_ , fucked and took and came.

It was like a supernova, brief and glittering and intense. As she came down she felt a physical sensation of emptiness and lassitude, spreading through her limbs: the sense of having let something go.

The next thing she was aware of as she trembled her eyes open was that she had both hands in Harry’s hair and was holding him down on her cock really quite firmly. She jerked her hands off him like he was on fire and said in a wrung-raw voice, “Fuck, sorry. Thanks. Sorry.”

“It’s quite all right,” he said, getting back to his feet, and surprised her with a sweet, conspiratorial smile. “Not your fault. Muscle memory.”

“That’s how I roll,” Eggsy confirmed. He was lazing under the covers, looking sleepy and content. It was a nice look: Roxy resolved to try to put it on her own face more often.

Harry helped her up and escorted her to the bed, moving to the chest of drawers to take out sleep clothes. She climbed in and Eggsy hugged her, his smaller frame molding around hers, then turned over to welcome Harry into bed on his other side with a long, chaste kiss.

She didn’t think she’d sleep: she didn’t sleep well with one other person in the bed, never mind another two, but they were warm and comfortable, and she was tired. She slipped quickly into rest to the soft sounds of Harry and Eggsy murmuring to one another.

***

Roxy woke up from her nap with Harry curled tight round her, his arm round her waist, his leg between hers, and screamed. 

"Eggsy -" he said, coming awake in an instant, then looked at her and said, "Roxy?"

" _Harry_ ," said Eggsy, on her other side.

" _Eggsy_ ," said Harry and she scrambled out of the way, her own body answering wonderfully, as they fell on one another mouths first. Eggsy was under Harry in a moment, their hands going all over the place. 

"I'm just going to go," she said, and made her escape.

***

She texted Merlin to let him know they were back to normal and then made herself a coffee, taking it upstairs and sitting by the balcony, doors open, enjoying the feeling of the late evening air on her face - _her_ face! - and in her hair. She appropriated a cardigan of Harry's from the sofa to make it comfortable, feeling it was the least he could do: her body was carrying the pleasant ache of having been hard-fucked and satisfied.

Harry was the first one to come in, wearing pajama trousers and t-shirt, alarmingly wild sex hair, and an expression that was shading past satisfied and into smug. 

"Hello again," he said.

"It is lovely," she said. "The way you are together." She looked down the mews, all floral-decorated and bright white paint, like the cosy domestic happiness of Harry and Eggsy's life, which she’d never quite understood before. 

He gave her a small, startled grin and came closer, leaning in the balcony doorway and taking a deep breath of the breeze. "It was all very unexpected, you know. At my age."

She laughed and pulled her knees up closer, getting a sudden dissonant memory of watching herself doing the same move from the outside. "Are you trying to tell me someday my prince will come?"

"If you want one, then yes," Harry said. He hesitated, then bent down and gave her a gentle peck on the forehead, the way Alastair did when she'd had a hard mission or sometimes simply a bad day. "I've no doubt."

He wandered off towards the kitchen and Eggsy came in; they met and kissed in the doorway like they’d been apart months, rather than all of about five minutes. Eggsy came over and squashed into the armchair with her and she put her head on his shoulder. 

"Tea?" Harry shouted up the stairs. 

"Yeah," she shouted back, and Eggsy smiled at her. "Both of us."

**Author's Note:**

> Roxy and Eggsy swap bodies temporarily. Harry has sex with Eggsy (in Roxy's body) with Roxy (in Eggsy's body) watching and there is brief sexual contact between Harry and Roxy (in Eggsy's body). The negotiation is alluded to but offscreen. Roxy's inner thoughts related in the story have her exploring her feelings about, and struggling to adapt to, being in a male body. There is a brief mention of food and dieting including Harry advising Roxy she needs to eat more while she's in Eggsy's body.


End file.
